A/N: For the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm Chaser #3 of the Wimbourne Wasps and I am to write about my OTP dealing with a physical illness. I ship Harry/Hermione.
#1: (dialogue) "What have I done this time?"
#4: (word) bench
#5: (word) unravel
Incredibly Broken
Harry waited in the empty hospital room for her to return and he believed that it was taking entirely too long to do a brain scan. He was beginning to get anxious and resorted to twiddling his thumbs and shaking his left leg to calm himself. He still couldn't do it. For every minute he waited he just continued to think that the walls were closing in on him. Harry didn't like having this much time to himself because it made him think.
He could have sworn that months ago Hermione had been perfectly fine due to the extreme amounts of laughter and kind words that she spread all over the reunion party. Up until yesterday he had no idea that something serious could be going on with her and he hoped that he was wrong this time.
Just when he was about to demand to know where she was, a nurse wheeled Hermione into her room; the nurse looking no happier than usual. Something seemed to be especially sad hidden behind her stone gaze and Harry felt a little sick to his stomach. Hermione, on the other hand, was glowing radiantly, but even if the world was falling apart she would still try to push the happiest thoughts into your mind to deflect from everything else going on around everyone.
"Harry! You're still here?" she questioned, her smile getting wider.
"Why wouldn't I be?" he inquired, half smiling as the nurse helped Hermione into the bed.
"I didn't want you to be bored just sitting here by yourself," she answered.
"The doctor will be in shortly for the results," the nurse commented before hurrying to leave the room.
Harry had finally stopped to take in Hermione's appearance, and feared even more for her once he was done examining her. Her body seemed a little more frail than usual and she looked sickly. Her brown orbs weren't as full of life as they once had been, and no size of a smile could change that. He was scared… maybe she was too?
"What have I done this time?" Hermione asked, curiously looking Harry over for some sort of answer.
"You didn't tell anyone how you were feeling, Hermione," he answered, his emerald eyes glanced to the floor to avoid her gaze.
"Oh, it's nothing! I'm sure I won't be here long…" she lied.
"It's a brain tumor, Hermione! Why couldn't you have said anything about headaches or lightheadedness? I'm not a mind reader!" he argued, standing from his chair with tears brimming his eyes.
"Because I didn't think you would care…" she whispered.
Her words were like a Basilisk fang to the heart. Her accusation of him not caring about his girlfriend, or just simply not being a great friend, ripped his heart to shreds.
"How can you say that, Hermione?" he asked, trying to keep his voice down and the nurses at bay.
"I don't know, okay? My mind is all jumbled," she said, sighing heavily.
Harry could see that the news of a brain tumor had started to unravel her spirits, but she would be a fool not to let anyone else see what she was suffering from. He loved this girl and he didn't know what he would do without her. She couldn't have brain cancer…she just couldn't.
"Ms. Granger?" the doctor questioned after knocking quietly on the always open wood door.
Hermione looked in the direction of the young specialist and tried to straighten herself up in the bed before he asked anymore questions.
"Good Morning, Dr. Tebet," Hermione said warmly.
"I'm afraid I've got some news that you aren't going to want to hear…" he said slowly and sorrowfully.
Harry watched and listened as the doctor told her the results to her brain scan.
Harry had walked out of Hermione's hospital room and sat on the bench in the nurses break room. He couldn't believe that the tumor was growing at such an elevated pace that she would have to start treatment immediately. Harry knew that she was trying to be more positive about the situation, but he couldn't. He loved her too much to let her go. Not right now and most certainly not like this.
"I thought I might find you here," Hermione said from the doorway.
She was still in her hospital robe and carrying two cups of steaming hot chocolate and looking completely sympathetic towards the already upset Harry. He was curious why she wasn't more upset, but he decided to let it go for now and graciously took the cup from her hands.
"How did you know that?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse.
"Because I know you," she said, smiling at him sympathetically.
Harry couldn't wrap the thought of her having cancer around his head, and every time he thought about it he almost started crying again.
"Aren't you scared, Hermione?" Harry asked quietly, she almost didn't hear him.
Hermione just nodded, but her smile wavered. He could see how hard she fought to keep her emotions held back from him and all he could do was take her in his arms in hopes that his embrace would comfort her. Harry knew that it could never heal her pain, but he had to try. Her whole body racked with sobs and her walls fell down immediately. There he was, holding the girl of his dreams, and praying that she could beat this burden.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered.
"There's nothing to be sorry for!" Harry shouted, taking her gently by the shoulders.
"I'm sorry that I may not be there for you when you're going to need me most," she said, tears coming back for their encore performance.
"That's not going to happen, Hermione… we're fighting this. Together. It's not the first war that we've beaten," he said, smiling at her before giving her the most passionate kiss that he could give.
He kissed her like he would never get to do it again.
